


and your voice still echoes

by wordbending



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Autism, Autistic Chara (Undertale), Chara has OCD, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other, internalized ableism, mostly platonic but You Know Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending
Summary: That was when they did something strange with their hands. They let out a loud squealing noise, raised their hands up, and started to flap them rapidly, like a bird monster, all the while kicking their legs so rapidly that their plate nearly fell to the floor. At first, it surprised you, but they looked so happy doing it that it was obvious that it was because they were happy.Then they realized what they’d just done and their face went bright red. Their smile went away again, and they hugged themselves, and you didn’t need your mother to tell you they were deeply, deeply ashamed.So you let out a sharp, high-pitched squeal, and you lifted your paws and flapped them too, kicking your legs.-----Chara wasweird,Asriel decided. But he thinks he actually might like that about them.
Relationships: Chara & Asriel Dreemurr, Chara/Asriel Dreemurr
Comments: 17
Kudos: 59





	and your voice still echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent alarm clock dialogue and the tiny little morsel of canon Chara-cterization we got. Thank you Toby Fox for the food
> 
> And thank you to my beta readers, Willow and Ivy, for the feedback!

Chara was _weird_ , you decided even before they were well enough to walk around your house in Home. Oh, sure, they were a human, and that made them kind of weird already (your Dad had to build a whole new room just for them to use the “bathroom,” whatever that meant), but you were pretty sure they were weird even by whatever human standards were.

You liked that about them though. It made them so _interesting._

The first time you realized Chara was a little bit weirder was when they ate lunch that first day. Your mother had made what she called a “human delicacy” - peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Instead of eating, Chara had lifted the sandwich to their nose and sniffed.

“What is this made of?” they said, in their soft, quiet voice, their face still wearing that smile that had never left it for a second.

“Peanut butter and jelly,” you answered automatically.

“I know _that_ ,” Chara said more loudly, rolling their eyes, and you flinched. “What’s the _peanut butter and jelly_ made of?”

“Snails.”

“Snails,” Chara repeated slowly. “The peanut butter, and the jelly, are made of snails.”

“Well, um, the jelly is,” you replied, scratching the back of your head. “I think the peanut butter is made of, um, peanuts. From the garden.”

“But it could be snails?”

“...Um... Yes?”

Chara sighed. That was when they did the weird thing.

They sat up on their knees, put the plate with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich down on their bed, and lifted their knife. Then they started to cut the sandwich, first removing the crust, then taking the knife and slicing the sandwich into nine, perfectly equally sized pieces. You didn’t understand why they did that _at all_ \- what was the difference between doing that and just biting into it? And what was wrong with the crust? That was the best part!

Seemingly satisfied with their weird sandwich tic-tic-toe, Chara lifted a piece to their mouth and ate it in a single bite. They instantly made a face at the taste - obviously they weren’t a fan of snails - but they swallowed it anyway, even though you were more the type to just spit up food you hadn’t tried and didn’t like.

“Drink,” they demanded.

You reached by your chair, set up next to Chara’s bedside (formerly your bedside), and handed them the glass of milk your mother had given you.

They took a look at it and made another face, scrunching their nose. You expected it was because it also smelled of snails, even though you knew that it wasn’t made from snails but, of course, from cow monsters. 

“Why is a quarter of it empty?” they asked.

“It’s three-quarters full!” you responded, almost offended.

“Whatever,” Chara said. “Same difference.”

Then, of all things, they handed the glass back to you.

“Go back and fill the glass all the way,” they said. They motioned with their hand towards the glass, pointing all the way to the very top. “And don’t spill a drop when you come back with it.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed in spite of yourself. They were being so _bossy!_ You’d just met - the least they could do is be a little friendlier!

But what you said, rather than “why?” or “no way,” was “OK.” And you went and did it, and you very carefully came back with a glass that was all the way full, and you didn’t spill it until you tripped over a leftover toy and the glass flew out of your hand and into Chara’s face.

Chara didn’t talk to you for a full day after that.

* * *

The other weird things about Chara were even more interesting, but it took you a while to see them. Mostly, those first few weeks, they stayed entirely to themselves, unwilling - or uninterested - in talking to you or your parents no matter how much you tried to speak to them. So, for the most part, you stayed quiet too, just sitting in front of them and reading books.

The weird thing this time was when you took out a book on astronomy. It wasn’t one of your favorites - you’d had a star mobile when you were a baby, and it still hung over the bed Chara was staying in, but you weren’t as interested in the stars as you used to be. What was the point when you’d never get to see them? But Chara visibly perked up at the sight of it. You noticed, and you couldn’t help but say something.

“You’ve seen the stars for real, right, Chara?”

Chara’s smile widened. In what some small part of you thought was a rather arrogant tone of voice, they said, “Oh, yes. Many times.”

“Tell me about them! What’s your most favorite star?”

“Beta Canum Venaticorum,” they replied instantly.

“Oh! That’s the hunting dog star, right?!”

“That’s right!” Chara said, their smile visibly relaxing as they scooted forward closer to you, an intensity you’d never seen from them before in their eyes as they bored holes into yours. “It’s a G-type main sequence star... also called a yellow dwarf, like our sun here in the Solar System. It’s twenty-seven and a half light years from our sun. In Chinese, it’s part of the asterism _Cháng Chén,_ or the _Imperial Guards,_ where it’s known as the fourth star. Oh, and because of its light spectrum, it’s often compared... to...”

You stared with wide-eyed interest. You’d never seen Chara talk this much, not once, and something must have shown on your face that made them realize this too, because Chara stopped, their smile fading.

“Why’d you stop?” you said quietly, daring yourself to push them, just this once. “I want to know more about it.”

“Y-you do?” Chara stammered, their cheeks reddening even further than usual.

“Yeah,” you said. “Tell me _everything.”_

Chara smiled again.

“Because of its light spectrum, it’s often used as a comparison point for other stars. Do you know what else it’s known as?”

You shook your head.

“Chara.”

“You’re named after a star?” you said, amazement filling your voice. “That’s so cool! Your parents picked such a pretty name.”

You expected Chara to be flattered by the compliment, but instead, their smile entirely faded. 

“Ah, well,” they said, no longer meeting your eyes. “My... _parents_ didn’t name me that. _I_ named myself after Chara.”

You only grinned. “That’s even cooler.”

Chara blushed and smiled back.

* * *

Your mom gave Chara a special desert one night, and that was when you got to see another thing about Chara that made them so unique and special. Your mom had said that she had to gather the ingredients, so it’d taken her a while to make it, and besides, she wanted the occasion to be special. So, on the one month anniversary of Chara entering your lives, she gave them a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie.

You made sure the milk was how they liked it this time.

When Chara got the pie slice, they did the weird thing again, making it so that it was cut into several roughly equally-sized segments. Then they took a bite of it, still cautiously (probably because they thought the butterscotch and cinnamon were made of snails too), and a visible sense of relief and joy washed over their face as they swallowed.

That was when they did something strange with their hands. They let out a loud squealing noise, raised their hands up, and started to flap them rapidly, like a bird monster, all the while kicking their legs so rapidly that their plate nearly fell to the floor. At first, it surprised you, but they looked so _happy_ doing it that it was obvious that it was _because_ they were happy.

Then they realized what they’d just done and their face went bright red. Their smile went away again, and they hugged themselves, and you didn’t need your mother to tell you they were deeply, deeply ashamed.

So you let out a sharp, high-pitched squeal, and you lifted your paws and flapped them too, kicking your legs.

Chara narrowed their eyes, and you stopped, noticing the beginning of tears in the corners of their eyes.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, it looked fun!” you said quickly. “Do all humans do that stuff?”

“No,” Chara said. “Just me.”

They paused.

“...You really think it’s fun?”

“Yeah!”

Chara looked skeptical, but they smiled softly. “It _is_ fun. You’re not doing it right, though.”

You stared. You were pretty sure you’d done it just like they did.

“Let me show you. You’ve got to make the noise like _this._ ”

And they squealed again, flapping their hands and kicking their feet. You did the same, so that you were squealing on top of each other, one over the other. And then you did it again, and again, Chara laughing and smiling the widest smile you’d ever seen on their face.

You didn’t even notice the door open and your mother and father looking at the two of you.

* * *

Chara might have liked making noises themselves, provided they were sure that you and only you were the only one listening, but they didn’t like the noise of crowds, and most of all, they didn’t like _noise,_ period _._ You found that out pretty quickly when the four of you travelled out of Home and to the new city your father had uncreatively called “New Home.”

You’d had to avoid crowds because Chara had refused to travel where any monsters could see them, but even travelling alone, something about the snow deeper down in the Underground seemed to especially bother Chara, even though they were bundled up in several layers of sweaters and hoodies. They hugged themselves tightly from the cold, and when the snow whipped by them fiercely, the loud noise the air currents made would make them flinch. The swamp with its waterfalls was even worse - the louder the waterfalls and rushing water got, the more Chara covered their ears and bit their lip.

When the four of you eventually made it to New Home, you discovered that Chara’s sensitivity to noise didn’t lessen in the relative comfort and quiet of your new house. Little things set them off - your mother and father talking from another room, the fireplace crackling, the clatter of silverware and plates and the running faucet when your mother washed dishes. Whenever there was too much noise, they’d bury their head under their pillow and squirm, as if that’d make the noise go away.

Most of all, though, they seemed to dislike it when _you_ talked. It was disappointing - you’d even dare to say it was a little frustrating - but, often, when you tried to make conversation with them, they’d become increasingly annoyed with the sound of your voice. They’d never _say_ so, but they didn’t try to hide it either - they’d become increasingly agitated, their smile becoming more plastered-on, their whole body becoming more tense and nervous, until you got the message and left them alone.

One time, you’d peeked into your shared room after you’d talked to them too much only to see them with their hands covering their ears as they rocked slowly back and forth, muttering something to themselves. You felt terrible, but not for them, but for _yourself._ Did they really hate you that much, you thought, tears springing to your eyes, that just talking to them seemed to cause them _pain?_

You ran to your father to tell him, because mothers and fathers know everything, and he’d shhed you and said in his deep, booming voice while you sat on his lap, “Now, my son, you know they don’t hate you. They care for you a great deal - more than anyone else, to tell the truth.”

“But I _annoy_ them!” you whined, pulling on your ears. “If they don’t hate me, why do they not want to talk to me? Why are they so quiet and... and _mean_ ... and... and _weird?”_

“Now, Asriel, you shouldn’t speak about them in that manner,” your father chastised, and he was right, you shouldn’t. Chara _was_ weird, but you liked that about Chara. It wasn’t a bad thing. “Chara means you no ill will. They are just different from other humans.”

“Different?” you repeated softly, interested.

“Your mother and I believe Chara is autistic.”

You’d never heard that word before, and you told your father so, and he chuckled.

“To put it in simple terms, that means they see the world much differently than you and I. It’s a good thing - it’s what makes them unique. But they’ve probably been told many times not to be different - that they should be the same as everyone else, rather than be themselves.”

“Why?”

“Humans are not like monsters,” your father said, very seriously. “They do not look kindly on those who are not like them. Chara... is very different from most humans. Asriel, the truth is... they have probably been hurt many times, in ways they will never want to speak to you of. If you are to be their friend, you must accept that. You must accept them.”

You nodded, trying to take your father’s words just as seriously. 

“Thanks, Dad,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, Asriel,” your father said with a smile.

* * *

You found yourself taking your father’s words to heart. A little _too much_ to heart. You spent time around Chara very, very carefully, giving them all the space they could ever ask for, never questioning them or acting like they were strange, and never, ever imitating them. 

You thought you were doing a good job.

Chara hated it _even more._

“Why are you acting weird?” they demanded at one point, when you gave them lunch and then started to walk away without saying another word. You froze to the spot, every hair of fur on your body standing on end.

“W-weird? Haha, I’m not... I don’t know what you mean!” you replied without turning around, sounding unconvincing even to your own ears.

“You used to always want to... to be near me,” they said. “Now it’s like I’m some kind of... feral animal, and you’re trying not to get bit.” Their voice went much quieter. “Did I... do something wrong?” Even quieter, almost pleading. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” you said, quickly, loudly, turning around to face them. You didn’t even try to hide in your expression how scared you were of hurting Chara’s feelings - the last thing you ever wanted to do was lose Chara’s trust in you.

“Then what is it?” Chara demanded. “Tell me. Tell me so I can _fix it.”_

“Dad said you were... you were...” The words spilled out of you automatically, even though you didn’t know how to say them. “ _Different.”_

Chara laughed, sharp and bitter. “Of course. Of course.” You stared as their eyes started to water, and you swore you felt something inside you snap in two. “I thought _you_ were different. I thought... I thought you’d actually treat me like an _equal,_ not like some... some fragile little _doll,_ like something you might _break_ if you play with it too hard. But of course not.”

Chara smiled very, very widely, tears spilling down their cheeks.

“You’ll abandon me too, won’t you? It’s all fun and games now. But one day I'll be too difficult for you. I won’t be fun to play with anymore. And you’ll toss me aside. Just like everyone else.”

You felt a horrible twist in your gut. That wasn’t true at all! Why would Chara think that about you?!

“I’d never do that!” you shouted. “I’d never abandon you, Chara! Ever!”

“Go away,” Chara said, their face darkening.

“But -”

“Go away!” Chara shouted, then even louder, “Go away! Go away go away _go away!”_

You felt tears spring to your eyes, but you didn’t go. You wouldn’t.

So Chara screamed. It was just a loud, piercing noise, a continuous sharp note. It was so loud you had to cover your ears.

“I won’t abandon you!” you screamed back, hoping to be heard over the noise. But Chara just kept screaming, and screaming, and screaming, until your parents entered the room to see what had happened and your mother picked you up and carried you out, squirming and trying to break free. The moment you left the room, you broke down in her arms, crying into her shoulder.

What had you done _wrong?_

* * *

You slept with your parents for the next few days, while your mother delivered them food. You made sure to tell her how they liked it - their sandwiches cut into even squares, no vegetables on their plate, their cups as full as they would go.

But you couldn’t stand being away from Chara. It was worse than being alone. You were used to being alone, since you had so few friends. Being away from Chara, though, it wasn’t like that. It _hurt._ It made everything around you feel gray and empty, almost lifeless.

So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You woke up one morning, bright and early, before even your parents had woken up, and you snuck out of bed and into the kitchen. Your mother had taught you a few things, so you used the skills you had to make pancakes, although they were way too buttery and you burnt them a fair bit trying to flip them. You cut each of the pancakes into sixteen roughly equally-sized bite-sized pieces, then you covered them in a mountain of syrup and poured milk into a glass, filling it all the way to the brim until it threatened to spill over the side.

Very carefully, you carried everything to you and Chara’s room, leaving a trail of syrup and milk behind you with every step. You entered the room slowly, trying not to make any more of a mess.

“Toriel?” you heard them call out as you opened the door.

“N-no,” you stammered. “It’s me.”

 _“Oh,”_ said Chara, in a tone that suggested they were not at all pleased by that.

You opened the door the rest of the way and approached Chara’s bed, before handing them the plate and the glass. They took them, skeptically.

“Why isn’t Toriel here?”

“Because... I made it,” you said, trying to sound firm, like you wouldn’t take their no for an answer, but instead coming across as if you didn’t have any confidence in what you were saying. You tried to make up for it by explaining, “I made it just how you like it. I cut it evenly, and I gave you lots and lots of syrup, and I filled the milk up all the way, but I spilled it on the way here...”

Chara stared down at the food and said nothing, so you spoke instead.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shuffling in place, hugging yourself with your arm. Your eyes kept darting back and forth between the ground and Chara’s blank expression. “I’m _really_ sorry.”

Chara scoffed, but they took their fork and started to eat their pancakes anyway.

“Dad told me you were... different,” you said, and at that word, Chara flinched. “I thought, ‘cause of that, I had to treat you different too. But...” You looked into Chara’s eyes, and they stared back. “I was wrong.”

“You were,” Chara said, with a half-shrug of their shoulder.

“I want to be your friend, Chara. I really... _really_ don’t want you to hate me. So... so I hope you can forgive me for... for treating you weird.”

“Well,” Chara said slowly. “These _are_ really good pancakes.”

“Really?” you said, perking up.

"No. I lied. They're burnt."

"Oh."

"But it was _..._ thoughtful. So I'll forgive you."

You smiled, stupidly, in spite of them insulting your pancakes, and nearly barreled forward to give them a hug. But then you realize when they look alarmed that they won’t like that - they hate being hugged or touched - and that you’ll get syrup all over your fur too, so you didn’t do that.

“I... I have some more,” you offered. “Can I eat with you?”

Chara smiled at you.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

That Holly Day, your parents went to you and Chara’s room to bring Chara some gifts, even though they didn’t want to participate in Holly Day and keep calling it “Christmas” for some reason. It made you miserable - they’d been eating alongside you at the dinner table now, so you’d thought maybe they would want to join the festivities too. 

The gifts your parents buy for them were weird, too - not in a bad way, but in the same way Chara was. Like Chara themselves, you’d never seen anything like them before.

One of them was a box of toys, but they were the strangest toys you'd ever seen. There was a cube covered in differently-colored squares that rotated around, there were two interlocking rings attached together, there were squeezable balls, and there was some kind of stretchy goop, almost like brightly-colored clay.

There was another toy too. It was a small rectangular gray prism, covered in brightly-colored knobs and buttons and wheels.

Chara took one look at them and their ever-present smile seemed to fade, just a little.

“You can’t fix me with something like this, you know,” they said, softly. “It never works.”

“My child,” your mother said gently. “We have no wish whatsoever to fix you. We care for you just as you are.”

You notice that she doesn’t say she _loves_ Chara, and you wonder why, when you know she loves Chara just as much as she loves you.

“For now,” Chara muttered.

“Forever,” your mother replied, smiling a very soft smile. “And nothing shall change that.”

“Tori and I,” your father said, “want only what’s best for you, as if you were our own child. We know you have been through many hardships, young one, hardships that have changed you immeasurably, but... know this. We truly wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

Chara looked, unsurely, between the three of you. Your father smiled, and your mother set the toys on the bed. You smiled too.

“...I’d like to be left alone,” Chara said without smiling back, still in that soft, emotionless tone, and your mother and father nodded. Your parents started to leave, with you hesitating for a moment before following, but to your surprise, Chara added, “With Asriel.”

Your mother and father looked at each other and then left the room, leaving you and Chara alone.

The moment the door closed, Chara threw one of the toys - the prism - at the wall, where it loudly _banged_ against it before ricocheting onto the floor. Then they pulled on their hair and made a strained, pained noise that was horrible to listen to - it was like a growl, but with their teeth set together. Their breaths came out of them in short, sharp bursts.

You rushed over to them, unsure what to do, not wanting to touch them but not knowing what to say.

“They don’t _understand_ ,” they cried out, and then let out a heaving sob. “They don’t know what it’s _like_ to be _like this._ They really think _fidget toys_ are going to help me?! I’m stupid, I’m stupid and idiotic and _retarded_ and one day they’re going to throw me away too... _”_

“Chara,” you said, the words bursting out of you before you could even consciously think of them. “I’d _never, ever_ let that happen!”

“I know,” Chara said into their hands, with another muffled sob. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“You trust me, right?”

Chara nodded rapidly.

“Mom and Dad love you, Chara,” you said, firmly. “They’d never... throw you away.”

Chara just laughed, but there was no joke behind it.

“You’re right, they _don’t_ understand,” you continued. “But they don’t have to understand. They just have to accept you. They just have to support you. I... I know it’s not the same, but... my Dad told me, a long, long time ago, monsters only used to be boys and girls. There were no monsters like you - at least, not very many. People thought monsters that weren’t boys or girls, or monsters that were both boys and girls, were... weird.”

“Humans are _still_ that way,” Chara scoffed. “What’s your point?”

You pressed on. You noticed that Chara wasn't breathing as heavily, and that they were resting their hands in their lap now.

“Well, over time,” you said, and you got up and walked across the room to pick up the ‘fidget toy’ Chara had thrown, “monsters realized... they didn’t have to _understand_ monsters who didn’t want to be just boys, or just girls, or neither.” You walked back over to them. “They just had to accept them for who they were, and care for them, and give them what they need, like any other monster. And that’s what my parents want for you. They don’t understand, and they’re going to mess up sometimes, but...” You handed them the toy, placing it gently in their hands. “They care for you so much, Chara. I promise.”

Chara held the toy in their hand, looked down on it, and very slowly, began to press buttons on one of its side. The buttons made a sharp, loud click when they were pressed, and the edges of Chara’s mouth turned up just an inch.

“Alright,” they said, in their soft, quiet voice. They wiped at their eyes with their free hand. “Alright.”

You smiled at them.

“Tell them thank you,” Chara added, smiling over at you with wet, glistening eyes, and you nodded and promised you would.

* * *

Over the next year and a half, you listen as Chara spends hours and hours telling you about space, or their favorite flowers, or old cartoons, or whatever else they like.

You fill your glasses up like they do, all the way to the top, because it’s “more efficient.”

You play with their toys with them, and even though you don’t find them as fun as they do, you still enjoy every minute spent at their side.

You learn to accept, and then appreciate, and then to love all their little habits, like how they hum to themselves or flap their hands when they’re excited or how they like to carefully count out every piece of chocolate candy they get, and then before you know it, you’ve fallen in love with them too.

And then you make a promise to each other, a promise only you will live long enough to regret.

It’s all you can think about as you sit, sobbing, at their bedside, begging their frail, ravaged body to live, just for one moment longer - how special they are, how unique they are, how they’re completely irreplaceable, and now they’ll be gone, forever, and nothing in the world will ever bring them back.

And they kiss you, and their voice whispers “finally,” and then their voice will never be heard again.

* * *

“A long time ago, I knew someone who always filled up their glass, so the liquid was just peeking over the brim. 

It was the most efficient way to fill it, they said. Regardless of how thirsty they were.

Because of that, my son started doing it too, and... there were a lot of spills in the house.

...In the Ruins that time... the glass was full, just like that.”


End file.
